Dogs, those furry four legged humans that worm their way into your heart through a tiny space in your ribs. Their joy fills your heart until suddenly they leave, and a big hole you never knew you had opens up behind them. You wonder, "how long has that space been there?" and realize just the short time that I knew you. Now you are gone but that hole will always be there.
Jessie, with your one blue and one brown eye, you chased sticks enthusiastically but never knew you were supposed to bring them back, so I threw them, fetched them from you and threw them again. We swam in the river as the tide sucked in and out. You dug holes in the sand, while I rolled my kayak. Every so often, you'd swim out to me to check I was OK, then back you went to digging and sniffing, and looking for sticks.
When you crouched down I knew it was time to run like the wind. "Run like the wind," I'd say as I chased you, and you ran, with a broad smile upon your face, but never like the wind. You were 13 years old and your days of running like the wind were gone. But we didn't care. We were running like the wind.
Now the north wind blows, and you crouch down, spring, and run, on and on, like the wind. Run like the wind, Jessie, run like the wind.